


Sleeping with the Enemy

by Birdgirl90



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: F/M, Kaz - Freeform, Peace and quiet, Quiet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdgirl90/pseuds/Birdgirl90
Summary: Prompt: "Kaz/Quiet Anything!"
Kaz hates it when Quiet comes into his office....or does he?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there lovely readers!  
> This fic is based on a prompt for the MGS Xmas Supply Drop 2016.  
> Here we see our lovely sniper annoying our favorite grumpy commander.  
> Enjoy!

It starts with coffee.

The door to Kaz’s office opens without a knock.  He knows it’s not Ocelot, who can never resist an opportunity to taunt him with those fucking loud cowboy boots and annoying smirk, and he knows it’s not Boss, who knocks once before opening and shuffles his feet - always caked with mud, driving Kaz up the wall - across the worn carpet.  No, this is different and he looks up, expecting maybe one of the new recruits.

He doesn’t expect to see her.

Quiet stands silently by his desk, slipping in without a sound so much like her namesake.  She sets a hot cup of coffee on the wooden desk, carefully brushing a few files to the side to avoid the papers Kaz’s been staring at for the last...he glance at the clock.  Three hours.  The last three hours.  No wonder his neck hurts.

His eyes snap back to her.

“What do you think you’re doing in here?”

Quiet rolls her eyes and points to the cup as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  Kaz stares at it and then stares at her.  Is she trying to win good graces?  He taps the mug with his pen.  Did she poison the liquid inside?  What is her endgame, surely she has one…

“Thanks but no thanks.  There’s the door.”

He looks down at his papers, more aware of her presence than he should be as she stands still for a moment before silently stalking out the door.

 

****************************************************************************************************

It becomes a routine.

Kaz doesn’t know how it happened, or why he lets it go on, but now every evening like clockwork Quiet makes her way into his office.  It’s always the same - she brings him a coffee and sets it on his desk, waiting for a response of any sort from him.  At first Kaz just ignored her, but then she started sitting on his office sofa, boots hanging over the armrest of one end and humming fairly loudly until he couldn’t ignore her any longer.  

“Fine,” he snaps at last, looking up in frustration at the dark haired woman.  “Thank you for the coffee.  Now leave.”

Quiet stands up and beams at him.  Something warm bubbles inside Kaz and he shoves it down aggressively like he’s learned to do most things at this point.  But when she walks around the desk, her fingers brushing over his, he feels the flush rise in his face and something ache below his belt.  She looks at him a moment and dips down, and his pulse rises in his ears only to be placed with a mild disappointment as she reaches behind him to grab a book and walk back to the couch.  He clears his throat, reminds himself that she’s the enemy, even as he watches the sway in her step and the curve of her hip-

“Leave.  Please.”

He hates the way his voice cracks at the end, but he isn’t going to survive with her in this office.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised at the use of please, and stands up silently.  As soon as the door shuts behind her, Kaz lets out a breath of frustration as he tries to focus on anything but the painful arousal beneath his slacks.

God, what is he getting into.

 

*****************************************************************************************************

It’s a few days before Quiet makes her appearance in his office, and Kaz is loathe to admit to himself that he’s missed her.  His heart flutters when she walks in the door, a coffee in hand that she sets on his desk.

“Hey,” he says, wondering why he’s trying to make actual conversation for the first time ever with her, fumbling over his tongue.  

He can’t think of anything else to say, but it doesn’t seem to matter.  

Quiet tilts her head to the side, a small smile on her face as she walks around his desk and rests her hands on the arms of his leather chair.

There’s a moment of deafening silence.

He knows what’s about to happen, and he waits on edge, pulse thrumming in his ears.

Suddenly lips press against each other, and Kaz finds himself in a wild onslaught of desire and need.  She kisses him fiercely, hard and aggressive, her lips still soft somehow as they part against his.  He matches her movement for movement, and somewhere in the back of his mind he’s pleased to realize he’s still got some finesse, some skill for this like back in his youth.  He licks his way inside her mouth, biting her lower lip, swallowing a moan from deep in her being.  She tastes better than he ever imagined and he can’t get enough, drowning in her essence and in his own need.

Quiet breaks away, seemingly breathless, Kaz’s chest pounding.  She glances down his body and he flushes as he realizes how painfully hard he is just from this, just from a few delicious kisses from this woman he thought he hated.  He turns his head, only to have her fingers find his scruffy chin and turn him back to her.  She places a soft kiss on his lips and then on his nose before pulling his beret off, revealing the greying streaks in his blond hair that he’s tried so hard to hide; her fingers dance over them, swooping them off his forehead in a quick motion that inadvertently pulls a sigh from his lips.  Her fingers trail downward and touch the edges of his aviators and he tenses.  Sensing his discomfort, she leaves them, the look she gives him as clear as if she had spoken aloud.

_ Next time, they’re coming off. _

Kaz swallows.

Quiet slowly crawls onto his lap, straddling his hips with her thighs.  She rocks once against him and he  _ whimpers, _ making her grin wickedly.  He’s not in control, never was in control with her, never will be in control with her.  The thought liberates and thrills him as much as it terrifies him.  She lifts his hand and pulls his glove off, setting it on the desk with his beret before moving his hand to rest on her hip.  Under the muscle she’s still somehow soft, her hip curving perfectly into his touch.  She runs her hands through his hair as she leans down and kisses him again, hungry, and he’s more than happy to reciprocate, breathing heavily as he moves his swollen lips along her jaw.

His mind screams he’s sleeping with the enemy.  

Kaz muffles the voice with a soft groan against the assassin’s graceful neck.  She smells so fucking good, like fresh air and grass in summertime, and he can’t stop himself from breathing deep, can’t stop his teeth from grazing across her skin as he sucks at the hollow at the base of her throat.  She gives a small whine and he takes it as a sign to continue, her hands weaving in and out of his blond hair before resting on his shoulders, her breath hitching slightly as he graces over her collarbones.

Kaz can’t remember the last time he’s done this, the last time he’s slept with anyone.  As he kisses the swells of her breasts, he remembers how much he loves women, their gentle curves and soft skin.  He moves his hand up her side, his own grin forming at the way she squirms under his touch.  He cups one breast, then the other, lifting his eyes to gauge her reactions to him.  If they’re going to do this, after all, he wants to prove he’s good, that she’s made a good choice picking him over the others on base, over the stupid cat and that one new recruit who’s always trying to flirt with everyone and-

His mind screams he’s sleeping with the enemy.

Kaz silences the voice this time by burying his face in her shoulder as she rolls against his hips again.  He isn’t sure how long he’ll last and he tries to make it clear even as words fail him.  Quiet just grins again and pulls his hand from her chest and back to her hip, leaving it there as she makes quick work of his slacks, releasing his aching length at last.  Her hands grab at his shoulders and he’s reminded yet again that he’s not in control as she slides herself onto him, hot and wet and tight around him, rolling her hips to set a pace for him to follow behind.  He’s having trouble breathing, his chest heaving and body hot, hotter than it’s been in years.  His hand tightens on her hip and she moves it again until he’s rubbing along her, his fingers remembering their way after a moment, hot and slick as she keeps rocking up and down along him.

Strands of loose hair stick to Quiet’s flushed face, and this is it, he isn’t going to last, his eyes sliding shut as he lets himself go, lets her bring him to a place where everything in his mind is quiet for once and he feels young and free and alive for the first time in years, cumming hard and fast, making a mess of them both as he lets out a broken lost cry.  She keeps on him for a moment, and he keeps running his fingers and thumb along her until she cries out as well, shaking around him, words coming from her lips in a language he doesn’t understand, her voice so beautiful that he wishes she wouldn’t stop.

She’s breathing just as hard as he is when she smiles at him.  She really is something else, Kaz realizes as he looks at her, and his hand, still sticky, reaches up and brushes one of those loose tendrils of hair off her face.  Quiet turns her face into his touch, letting him cup her cheek for a moment before lifting herself off his lap.  They look at each other, and Kaz can’t stop the warm feeling flowing through his chest as he laughs stupidly, at how good he feels and how absurd what just happened was and how he’d do it again in a heartbeat.  

Judging from her sly grin, he suspects he might get his wish.

He clears his throat, trying to regain some sort of control over himself.  Quiet moves to the door, hands tightening her ponytail before she reaches for the handle.  She’s got the door cracked when he manages to form words again.

“I’m still not going to drink the coffee.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies!


End file.
